


Commander Shepard has been recovered

by captainhurricane



Series: life and the universe (as we know it) [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, they find each other again. Shepard deals and Kaidan holds on. Post-Destroy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commander Shepard has been recovered

**Author's Note:**

> pffst yes I know post-destroy-fics have been done to death but my bb deserves one. (and yes, the title is in reference to the beginning of ME2.) Might be continued one day if I ever recover from my feels. 
> 
> ps. yeah I know I kinda gloss over what exactly the blast did. Ssh.

After all, it is The Alliance who is first on the scene. Those proper soldiers with their straight postures and Alliance blues, humanity’s finest with their new battle scars; some of them really should be resting at make-shift hospitals instead of clearing rubble and looking for survivors. The hulking shadow of the Citadel still rests in the sky, but parts and pieces of it has fallen down, a crater where the beam was. The death toll keeps on rising, yet they still work, they still start the long, weary process of cleaning and rebuilding because they are, after all, alive. They owe their lives to each other and those who perished.

It takes hours, a few days before a soldier’s sharp eye spots the gleam of dog tags. Is it him, is it him, they ask. They don’t gasp or shiver at the sight of the body, they have seen worse. Their minds are numb to anything but the task ahead, Admiral Hackett’s unwavering voice in their ears (the communications are glitchy and barely there, the blast had damaged even them but nothing is beyond the point of repair). Yet their hearts skip a beat because somehow, _somehow_ they just know who made it to the beam, who was the one behind the black corpses of Reapers littered all over the galaxy now.

_Commander Shepard has been recovered._

The message rings through countless ears, it’s of careful joy but of joy no less; the Commander is in bad shape, half of his body crushed under a fallen rock but somehow, miraculously he is _alive_. His implants burn bright red under the cracks of his dirty skin. With no AI to help; the back-ups of their back-ups almost there but not enough, shadows of what were; the medical team that has been gathered to the center of London can work no miracles- Commander Shepard has been recovered, did you hear- but make sure Commander’s coma is something he will wake up from. They work their hardest in replacing crushed limbs with new ones, making sure the burnt out implants work at least somewhat. So that he at least breaths with his own, shredded lungs.

The Reaper-corpses are on everyone’s mind, always seen from the corners of their eyes, ready to be cleaned away when the moment strikes. The geth have not been cleaned away either, their corpses laying where they fell, their lights gone out at the exact same time the Reapers fell. One by one, crushed insects as tall as the highest buildings. Someday will be the time when all the corpses will have been cleaned away; Reapers, geth, humans, all alien-races, Reaper-forces but it is not now. Now is the time to sit down and realize we are alive, we have won, we are alive- did he do this? is on everyone’s mind, even the guard (Alliance, of course, earth-born and steady and stalwart) placed on Shepard’s door wonders so as she listens to beeping of the heart monitor.

Six weeks after Commander Shepard is pulled from the rubble, the Normandy returns to London. They are welcomed like all soldiers are; with pats on the back and welcomes and invitations to join in rebuilding because they have to start somewhere, don’t they? and hey, your Commander is alive but in a coma- no one has to say more than that, they all burst towards the hospital, hearts beating with worry and joy and sadness and exhilaration how is he, _how is he_ \- Kaidan’s the hardest, of course. He’s kept Shepard’s plaque on Shepard’s night table, has made his denial obvious in the way he’s slept in Shepard’s cabin and has been found by the memorial wall with his hand on the empty spot above Anderson’s name, with his eyes closed. No one had said anything about it, had clutched his shoulder and offered warm words.

“I’m afraid he’s been in a coma ever since the soldiers found him,” the doctor informs and sternly says no more than three people in the room at the time. They break that rule anyway, can’t enjoy a victory and their return (it was hard to get the Normandy back up and running, to find their way back to the right system and to the right planet but here they are—- even Joker, who clutches his cap and stares at the floor, doesn’t accept anyone’s help and hasn’t spoken a word ever since EDI— they still haven't found if she had made back-ups, if she is thrumming under Normandy's metal-skin, reaching out to them without a voice) without their Commander.

A week passes and Shepard isn’t alone. The crew scatters to do their business, back to their own people and to rebuilding and cleaning but one of them is always by Shepard; usually it’s Kaidan who gently informs he’s not going to leave now that he has confirmation that Shepard is alive. The crew has seen him through the worst, but only when left alone does Kaidan shed a tear, gulps as to not feel the horrible, gripping anxiety clutching at his throat yet again. That he cannot shake; hasn't been able to shake since they left and the red blast came. “You asked me what you'd do without me once,” he says and grabs Shepard’s hand (the one that’s still very much him, flesh and blood) and rubs his thumb against the scarred skin. “Don’t throw those words at me now, Shepard, eh." A yawn cracks his chin.

A week passes and Shepard wakes up to a blinding sunshine. The joy of seeing Kaidan (and James Vega, the current visitor) and hearing the news that the galaxy still stands is soon replaced by a flush of memories and a panic attack and Kaidan, Kaidan, it was me, I made a choice and they paid for it, _oh, Kaidan-_ they don’t understand, of course. Shepard shakes like he was just a man, gasps for air like he was drowning yet there is no water. Kaidan wraps a careful arm around him and doesn’t let go until the tremors go away and the tears dry. How is Joker, Shepard asks and dreads to hear the answer. Kaidan’s smile is sad. His grip is hard as he hears Shepard explain, hears the choices and the reasons why the geth fell when the Reapers did; “Shepard, you- you did the best you could,” Kaidan murmurs uncertainly and tucks himself against Shepard and can only hope his heartbeats are enough. Shepard doesn’t cry after the first time, merely gasps and then clutches the front of Kaidan's shirt, yearns for a kiss and gets it, kisses again and again yet it's not enough to chase the nightmares the inevitably come when the night falls. 


End file.
